


So Hot

by queen_sinnamon



Category: VIXX
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Car Sex, Charater/Reader, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, cross dress, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_sinnamon/pseuds/queen_sinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ravi invited you to a certain TV studio, you had been prepared for a performance from VIXX, not your boyfriend strutting onto the stage in ladies’ clothes and looking so damn hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Ravi-stan friend requested Ravi/reader smut and I needed to practice writing smut anyway, so...here it is. Enjoy! ♥

When Ravi invited you to a certain TV studio, you had been prepared for a performance from VIXX, his band. That was nothing new. Your boyfriend was the producer and rapper of said group, and he loved having you around to watch him as much as you loved doting on him.

“You’re gonna love it!” he had told you, and you had no doubt you would. You loved anything that had to do with him.

You had expected him to walk into the stage with his group, suited up and gorgeous, and perform one of their intense songs with its appropriately back-breaking choreography, like they usually did. You had not expected five beautiful ladies to strut onto the stage as Wondergirls’ So Hot started playing, all dressed uniquely with only leopard-print materials to identify them as a group. Your eyes fall immediately on the woman to the rightmost, her leopard-print jacket hugging her figure, pink shorts exposing her slender legs that were spotted by the stars of her pantyhose. Her short hair bobbed as she bowed her head, and you noticed then that she was wearing a cat-ears headband.

She catches you looking and winks her eyeliner-emphasized eye before she yells, “Yeah, whip it!” And they start to dance, their movements precise but still distinctly masculine, except for N who had always been graceful even when he wasn’t trying.

You stare, jaw slack and eyes wide open. The crowd went wild. You were pretty sure that that was your boyfriend dancing on the stage with his friends, all decked out in women’s clothing and in heels, but your brain refused to process the given information, until a tall man limped to the seat beside yours and quietly said, “I know right.” His voice was soft and it would have been lost in the screams of the crowd had you not grown accustomed to picking it out.

Leo sits down next to you, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. He had recently gotten injured from an athletic meet, thus the cast on his foot that spared him from having to do exactly what your boyfriend was doing right now. He would have hated all this if he’d been on that stage, but right now he was keeping himself from laughing out loud, you knew from the way his cat-like eyes crinkled.

It only then sunk in and you burst into hysterical laughter, clapping your hands like a retarded seal, especially when Ravi’s rap came in. Despite the pretty face and the skimpy clothes, he still moved and barked his lines as he usually did, muscles stretching and pulling with the intensity unique to him, voice rich and deep. The contrast makes the audience howl.

Your laughter infects Leo, destroying what control he had and making him giggle under his breath, and by the end of the performance, your sides and cheeks hurt from so much laughter that you had to lean on the injured man, giggles still bubbling from your throat, never mind that people stared at you.

You have a large build, tall, torso sculpted to the coveted inverted triangle, arms and legs tight with muscle. Angular jaws framed by long, wild curls, full lips, sharp grey eyes. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of native Koreans, but you have lived in the country all your life, your parents being immigrants. It still amuses you when people try to talk to you in broken English and then jump when you answer in perfect Korean.

Leo chuckled as he helped you up, best as he can. “Come on,” he said as he led you backstage, both of you limping now.

——————

“Mmyeah, girl, nice ass,” you whistled, leaning against the wall beside the door, as the VIXXgirls shuffled into their dressing room.

Hyuk and Hongbin rolled their eyes at you, laughing as they marched straight to the boudoir, eager to get the wigs and makeup off. The leader, N, gasped indignantly and swung his palm as if to slap you, missing intentionally, while Ken smacked you on the arm. “You perv, how dare you!” he huffed as he stomped away. N flipped one of his pigtails back and burst into giggles. “Pretty, right?” he said, not really expecting an answer and heading to the couch to join Taekwoon and take selfies. He was probably planning to keep the get-up until they got back to the dorms.

Ravi was last to enter, cheeks flushed and smiling curtly, and you pull him into your lean arms and pin him against the wall–Thank god you were as vertically blessed as he was, otherwise the sight would have been weird…er. “Hey, sweetheart,” you purr, hands caressing his waist and traveling to his ass. It had been funny when he was dancing on the stage, but now that you were up close, Ravi actually looked hot in lady’s clothes, makeup and all, and images of him without it all, except for the wig, came unbidden, making heat pool into your stomach. He must have felt it too because he averted his eyes from yours, blush deepening. “What say you and me get out of here?”

“Oh my god, yes, please, get a room,” Hongbin scoffed from across the room, glaring at both of you in the mirror, though his glossed lips were stretched in a smile. He was supportive of Ravi being gay and of your relationship, but he hated the PDA, if only because he didn’t have someone to make it with himself.

You laughed and wrapped one arm around Ravi’s waist, standing beside him against the wall. “Do you have anything else for today?” you ask him, and he answered with a scowl and a pout, and it took all your control not to bite those puckered lips.

He was definitely surprised that you found the entire thing as anything but funny, but then again he was always surprised whenever he stumbled on your kinks.

Hyuk answered in his stead. “Nah, we’re just gonna go home now, you can take him,” he said as one of the make up artists gently peeled the false eyelashes off of him. The boy still had a little discomfort with your relationship, but he was happy enough to see his hyung happy. Ravi let out a choking noise, stuttering from embarrassment before he managed to say, “You’re just giving me away like that!?”

“Of course,” Hyuk and Hongbin said in perfect unison, giving each other a high five. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that they were dating.

“Awesome,” you said, grinning, turning to Ravi, voice low and full of naughty promises. “Let’s go?”

He wiggled out of your arm, muttering, “Lemme get changed first” but you grabbed him by the waistband of his shorts and started for the door. “No need!” you say gleefully.

——————

Your relationship with Ravi was still young and, in addition to his nearly nonexistent experience with women, he was completely new to being with a man.

You are a male model, your chiseled body and handsome face often demanded for by but not limited to underwear brands, and you met Ravi during their photoshoot for their album Hyde, where they all had to pose half-nude.

Ravi had a great body, all lean limbs and “chocolate abs”, and he knew, and you wondered vaguely if his velvety olive skin felt as smooth as it looked. You had to shake your head and remind yourself you were working.

He was the only one who hardly needed your expertise during the shoot, leaning or crouching or angling nearly perfectly for every shot. He hardly asked too, and you had thought it was out of confidence, but quite the opposite. He was terrible at English, you soon found, when he shyly asked, “Whach yur name?”. You thought it adorable, teasing the poor boy by answering in English, and he had looked around for help to answer you. You had laughed, assuring him that you can understand and speak Korean. He had blushed and covered his face, laughing.

For the rest of the shoot, he hung around you, even helped you guide the shyer members like Hongbin and Leo find their best pose and angle, and was so sociable and friendly, unlike his cool disposition on camera, that you were soon eased into joking and teasing with Ken, Hyuk, and N. He was the first to offer exchanging numbers with you too.

“If I ever need modeling advice, I’ll have an actual model on speed dial,” he had joked, unwittingly making your heart flutter.

Ravi had occasionally invited you out for coffee, and what would start as asking for a third opinion about their group concepts turned into talks of games, worries, books, hopes, dreams, politics, and most things under the sun.

You found how thoughtful and sensitive he actually was compared to his delinquent image in VIXX’s music videos, how keen he was about songwriting and producing only the best songs for his group, how he considered them his brothers, how he ached for his family, and how terrified he was of bugs.  

And for his part, Ravi listened in awe as you regaled him with stories of your adventures, small and big, how your curiosity and disregard of “Authorized Personnel Only” signs led you to the audition of your first commercial and eventually your career as a model. “Well, you’re hot, I’d be surprised if they didn’t take you,” he said. It was an off-hand compliment and you’ve heard it plenty of times from other people, but, from Ravi, it was different. It made your heart jump to your throat and your laugh came just a second later than his.

The baritones of your voices filled the café, sounding almost musical in the quiet, and you were both surprised, as always, when the staff informed you that they were closing.

Time passed quickly whenever you were together, too quickly that you would both prefer to walk than call cabs home so you could continue talking and laughing.

It had been casual and friendly at first, but your attraction to him grew. The soft flutters of your heart turned into bass drums, pounding and demanding, and you wondered how he couldn’t hear it. You found yourself noticing every little thing about him, how his eyes almost disappeared whenever he laughed, how he would fling his hands at every direction when he told his stories, and how he would lick his pink lips when he paused. You would imagine pinning those hands over his head and sucking those pink lips in your mouth, and you had to cross your legs to hide the bulge growing in your pants. You had developed a habit of compulsively checking your phone, heavily disappointed each time you found no texts from him, and your longing knots your insides until you can’t breathe. The relief and the joy unwind it all completely and have you practically whooping when one does arrive, asking you out for coffee. He was all you could think about–how he moves, how he talks, how he would feel writhing under you–that whenever you were together, you would always steer the conversation back to him. What has he been up to? What did he think about this and that? Was he happy? Was he dating anyone?

You were pining for him and you loved it as much as you hated it. What you had with him was good, you were both happy. You had fallen in love with this beautiful man, his strong image and his soft heart, and he at least enjoyed your company. That was good enough, right? You were contented with that…right?

But greed had crept up on you without your knowing, rooting itself at the forefront of your mind and driving you mad. You didn’t want to be just friends. Fuck that. You wanted him to yourself.

So when you next met up, at the crossroads where you and Ravi went on your separate ways home, you grabbed his slender waist, pressed him against you, and kissed him full in the mouth, deep and passionate, saying all the words you couldn’t. You’ve never really been good with words anyway.

Ravi had made no move to resist. Perhaps it was the shock, or he was just that nice, but when you pulled away, his cheeks had bloomed with color and he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, kiss-swollen lips trembling, and he had looked about to cry.

Oh shit. You thought you had screwed it all up. You were going to lose him. Cracks started appearing in your confidence, and before it all crumbled, you grabbed at the tail of your fleeing courage and whispered, your voice shaky, “Go out with me.”

Ravi opened his mouth to say something but only a strangled sound came out, and you wanted to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness. You would never do it again, _I was being stupid, please, I’m so sorry, don’t leave me._

But then, and you would have missed it had you been paying less than all of your attention on him, he nodded.

——————

“Someone’s going to… _ah_ …” Ravi mewled as your tongue glided up from his neck to ear, catching the lobe between your teeth and pulling ever so slightly. “…see us.”

You are in the elevator, just the two of you, standing in the far right corner of the contraption where the blind spot of the security camera was. Ravi is pressed against you, flushed and panting, ass grinding against the bulge on your crotch despite his protests. One of your hands is under his shirt, exploring, caressing every inch of hot, silky skin, while the other cups his crotch, massaging the erection straining against his tight, pink shorts. His knees buckle and he claws at the sleeves of your black hoodie to keep upright, if only to give himself some sense of control. You both knew you would never let him fall, not with your hands on him, not while your lips trailed kisses along his jaw, coaxing him to turn his head.

Turn he did, the bangs of his wig further darkening the inky pools of his half-lidded eyes. His glossed lips were parted and welcoming, and you suck on his lower lip, tasting strawberries. A needy moan escapes him and your mouth on his silences him, and he’s lost in your kiss, fear of being caught completely obliterated, at least for the moment.

You, on the other hand, were hyper-aware of everything. Of Ravi squirming against you, of his heavy breaths fanning your face, the scent of him mixed with a light perfume intoxicating, and he is ready, all decency forgotten at the moment. So ready that you wanted to take him right then and there, security cameras be damned, but you knew he wouldn’t like that, after he gets his senses back.

It had taken him months before he even introduced you as his boyfriend to the rest of VIXX, and even then he still wasn’t sure if he was gay or bisexual, certain as he was of his feelings for you. There was no way he would out himself to the public, to be prey for paparazzi and _sasaeng_. He didn’t think he was strong enough for that just yet, and you didn’t want the same pain and ridicule to befall him as it did you. It would destroy him, or maybe not, but neither of you wanted to test that.

So when the elevator stops at the basement, you have already untangled yourself from Ravi, and stand a foot away from him, a goofy grin on your face as if you had just shared a joke with your friend. Said friend stood across you, red to the hairline of his slightly tangled wig, tugging at the hem of his shirt in a desperate attempt to hide the tent on his crotch.

——————

Ravi doesn’t ask why you entered the backseat of your car, nor does he protest when you pull him in with you. A press of a button, the locks click, and you were all alone, just the two of you, with no threats of anyone interrupting or even seeing you. You thanked forethought for having you invest on heavily tinted windows, because there was no way you and Ravi could have waited to get home, or anywhere remotely private, the tension between you pulled taut as it was.

As soon as you were in the privacy of your car, Ravi sheds his embarrassment like he did his leopard-print jacket, tossing the offending material to the back of the car, exposing his slender, muscled arms, the armholes of his sleeveless black blouse tight around his shoulders. He pushes you to sit back, and you do willingly, as he kneels on the seat, straddling your legs between his knees. Half-lidded eyes, dark as night, look into yours as he rolls his hips, rubbing against you, and you groan, cupping his cheek with one big hand and pulling him down for a kiss. He sighs into your mouth, tongue slipping its way in and tangling with yours, hips grinding more insistently.

Ravi was shy of your affections and stingy with his whenever there was anyone around, even his bandmates, but alone with you, he was the most generous partner.

His hands find the hem of your hoodie, slipping under the fabric to caress your toned stomach, your waist, the birth of your spine, drawing spiral patterns with his fingertips up to your shoulders. You shiver despite the heat in the car and you feel his lips curl in a smile against yours, breaking the kiss so he could peel your hoodie off, tossing it somewhere neither of you bother to look. He licks his lips at the sight of your naked torso and reaches up to his cat-ears headband.

“Wait, no,” you say, replacing the headband. He frowns at you and you chuckle. “Keep it. You look cute.” At that, he pouted and reached up again to rip off the headband and the wig. He never liked being called cute, at least not when he was trying to be sexy.

You caught his wrists, smoothly bringing them to your lips and kissing his pulse, trailing butterflies up his tight arm, mouth closing on the inside of his elbow. You felt his breath stutter, his chest faltering as it expanded. “You look…really…hot,” you said between licks and kisses from his shoulders to his neck, savoring his sighs.

“Are you sure you’re gay?” he teased, his low chuckle turning to a tiny yelp as you sink your teeth into the sweet spot in his neck, turning his breaths into wet pants. Fingers tangle into the wild curls of your hair, pulling you in. Your hands slip under his shirt, caressing the small of his back, expertly circling a nipple and making it stiffen to attention. “You’re…way too…into this.”

Your teeth graze his jaw, hips bucking against his, and he bites his lip, keeping from moaning. “I’m way too into you,” you whisper hotly and he shivers at the words and the stimulation.

His hands move from your hair to cup your jaw and he reclaims your lips, teeth and tongue and those soft, pillowy lips, sticky with smeared products, before he slides off your lap, breathless, nimble fingers working at your belt. You lift your ass as he pulls your jeans and boxers off, your cock springing free, skyward and diamond hard, leaking silvery precum.

Ravi stares at your manhood, blush returning to his cheeks, and you laugh. You have had sex many times before, but he is still embarrassed every time he sees you completely naked. You adore him for it and lean over to kiss him, growling against his lips, “Suck me, baby girl.”

He visibly cringes at the pet name, lips parting in a sigh of anticipation, eyes glossed over with lust. He comes forward, fingers wrapping shyly around the base of your shaft, pink tongue flicking out in kittenish licks, tasting you, and you hiss. _So good_ , but you want so much more. “Good girl,” you say as one hand tangles into his bobbed wig, encouraging him forward with a little pressure, and he obliges, wrapping hot lips around your head, licking as he took in more of you. You moan, deep and filled with need, and he hums his appreciation, fingers tightening around your girth with his confidence, pumping up and down to his rhythm.

Your free hand reaches for the console box, retrieving the sealed bottle of lube you’d bought in case spontaneity strikes exactly as it just had, and you say, voice shaky, “Take your shorts off, baby.”

He looks up at you, batting his false eyelashes, and he would have smirked if his lips hadn’t been stretched around your width. He hollows his cheeks, and sucks and licks his way down your length, down to the hilt, burying his nose in the little patch of hair at your crotch, making you grit your teeth, hips bucking forward violently. He chokes but keeps you in his mouth, throat closing around you, hot and wet, and you tug him back with a firm hand on the back of his neck. He looks at you, half-lidded eyes shining with tears and mischief, breathless, a triumphant smile on his swollen lips, gloss and lipstick smeared.

You pull him up, tasting yourself on his lips, swallowing his moan. You nudge at his straining erection and he promptly struggles out of the tight shorts, tossing it aside as he had your other garments, and he blushes as he remembers what he had worn underneath. Under the mesh of star-patterned pantyhose, black lace panties, sticky and stretched to their limit from the size of his arousal. He crosses his legs and covers his crotch instinctively, a little squeak escaping him. “B-boxers would have shown!” he says defensively when you chuckle.

“This…” You push his legs apart, occupying his position on the floor and fitting yourself between his thighs perfectly, and he gasps. “…is so…” Peeling his hands off his groin, eliciting a whimper. “…fucking hot.”

His blush deepens, and he pouts, but he stops fighting, keeping his legs wide open for you. “You’re kinky, you think everything is hot,” he says, rolling his eyes even as he angles his hips towards you for better access.

You shrugged. “Point taken,” you say as you lean in, licking at the wetness on his crotch, tasting saltiness even through the lace of his panties and mesh of his star-spangled pantyhose. He whines, hands guiding yours to his knees, up his thighs, and closing your fingers at the juncture of his legs. “So eager,” you coo, flashing brilliant white teeth in a grin before letting them graze his bulge, and he gasps. “Please!”

You tear at the sheer materials with your hands and he sighs in relief as his cock stands free, flushed red and wet. Your hot tongue licks a burning trail from the line between his balls, the vein under his shaft, around the weeping head, loving the taste of him, sweet and salty. He squirms and bucks, helpless pleas rolling down his tongue, _more, please, dear god_. And you happily oblige, stretching your lips around him and sinking the length of him down to your throat, gag reflex kept at bay by practice. His eyes flutter close, hands flying up to cover his gaping mouth, biting on knuckles to keep from screaming, legs stiff and trembling, toes curling.

Cheeks hollowed out, your head bobs slowly up and down along his length, his soft moans music to your ears, making your own cock pulse and weep. Hands searching for the abandoned bottle of lube. It rolls conveniently near Ravi’s ass and soon a slicked finger is circling his puckered opening. He gasps as you ease a finger in, slowly, letting him adjust. Erratic pants calming into deep breaths signal that it was safe, and you slip another finger in, as gentle as the first, moving now, in and out, stretching him, slowly, in rhythm with your mouth on his dick, probing and pressing for the spot you know would make his vision white out. You find it easily, knowing his body, his sweet spots, better than the back of your hand.

“Ah there..!” His spine archs off the seat, hands clawing at the headrests, heels digging into your shoulder blades. Your fingers curl upwards inside him, pressing on that spot, as your mouth takes him as deep as it can, down to your throat. His moans fill the car, and you should be hoping to god that nobody was around to hear, but at the moment you revel in each and every wanton sound he made. “Please…oh god…please, please…”

Your pace quickens, mouth and fingers, and he is reduced to gasps and mouthed pleas. You feel him coming close, muscles hard and tense, dick pulsing against your tongue, and you want it, everything, the taste of him covering your mouth, liquid heat raging down your throat. _I need it._

He breathes your name, hands clutching fistfuls of your hair, pulling. It hurts. You keep going, relentless, until he finds his voice, hoarse and trembling, “…stop…s-stop!”

And you do, so abruptly, one would have thought someone had hit the pause button, if not for Ravi’s chest rising up and down in quick, shallow breaths. You withdraw your fingers, slowly, gently, as he guides your head to his, silvery thread trailing down your chin. He licks it off, tasting himself, before kissing you, taking your breath away, as if to balm the rejection.

“Are you okay?” He rarely ever asks you stop, and even when he does, he usually means “more”. Did you hurt him? Did you scare him?

But he nods, pressing his lips to yours, trailing kisses to your ear, and he whispers, “I want you… _oppa_.”

Your grin nearly splits your face in half as you hoist his legs up in your arms, spurred by the new nickname and angling him so that his twitching, pink entrance aligns with your weeping tip. He finds the bottle of lube and slathers your shaft generously, biting his lip in anticipation, guiding you towards him. You follow his lead, pushing into him.

“Tight…fuck…” you hiss as he arcs into you, pushing you deeper in, taking all of you in his molten core. A keening mewl tumbles out of his mouth, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, nails digging into your back. You still, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion, and he uses it to reclaim your lips, tongue slipping in and licking the roof of your mouth, tangling with yours. You pull out halfway, and he breaks the kiss, eyes gleaming mischievously, and says, “Please, oppa…fuck me. _Hard_.”

You slam back into him, down to the hilt, hips slapping against his ass, and he cries out, utterly lost in pleasure. Even with the lube, you struggle to move as his flesh clenches around you, willing you to stay seated inside him. You place your hands on Ravi’s waist, thankful for the hard muscles allowing you to grip him, brace him, as you start a pounding rhythm, gaining speed and depth with every thrust, until you are hitting that cluster of nerves that makes his vision blank out.

“Ah there!” His gasps turn into grunts and moans that are sure to be heard if anyone were to pass close enough by your car, if the shaking wasn’t already enough clue. Your name rolling down his tongue, woven with endearments and expletives, encouraging, pushing you closer to the edge even as his wet, hot flesh pulls you there.

You watch him–eyes heavy with lust, mouth open, pale gold skin slick with sweat, his cock bouncing heavily between your bodies. “Touch yourself,” you growl, and he disentangles one hand from your hair, gripping his member and pumping to your rhythm.

A keening whine escapes his lips. “Close…oppa please…” he says between moans, pulling you to him, to your own climax and your hips stutter for a second. When you find your pace again, you are merciless, plundering him, chasing your high, faster, harder.

At a particularly deep thrust, he cries out, head thrown back, and he comes undone. Muscles tense, mouth open, as he empties himself between your bodies, staining his black blouse, splattering yours and his stomach and chest with liquid pleasure. The sight, along with his flesh clenching tight and hot around you, throws you off completely and you let go, spine locked. “…god Wonshik…” you moan his name, over and over, as if your life depended on it, and he pulls you into a hard kiss, teeth and tongue and swollen lips. Riding out your highs, whispering sweet nothings as you free fell through bliss.

Exhausted and completely sated, you collapsed against him, slipping wetly out of him, and, both of you panting, he cradles you in his arms, between his legs, as if you were a child despite being built bigger than he was. You bury your face into his neck, mouthing lazily at the skin, while he shivers as your seed drips out of his abused hole. His wig and cap had fallen off some time during your tryst, damp hair free and sticking to his forehead with sweat. He nuzzles into your curls, hair sticking to his gloss- and cum-smeared lips, but neither of you care, too spent and satisfied, basking in the afterglow.

When your breathing had calmed, you look up to him, kissing his jaw and tasting salt. “You’re so hot,” you purr, kissing your way to his lips. He starts to turn to catch your lips, but then he hesitates, and you feel him tense as he keeps his face facing forward. Something was off.

“Hey…” You push off of him, gently taking his face in your hand and coaxing him to look at you. He turns, but he keeps his eyes down, lips puckered in a pout. “Something wrong?” you ask, a mix of concern and bemusement bubbling in your chest. You cup his face with both hands and you tilt your head so you’re looking into his eyes. “Talk to me, baby.”

Ravi’s eyes flicker to the wig, discarded by his side, before he looks back at you. “Do you…like girls, after all? I mean… would you ever pick one over…I mean, I get it, but, you know…” His hands had wandered to your waist, clutching at your sides shakily as he fumbles for words.

It dawns on you then, and you can’t help but laugh, throwing your arms around him and sealing his mouth with a kiss. He gives an indignant puff, hands moving to your chest and weakly pushing you away, but you’re stronger than him and keep him in your arms. Catching his lips and kissing him even as he protests until he melts and kisses you back. When you break away from him, only so far that you could place kisses from his lips, to his nose, to his eyes, he is breathless, flaccid cock stirring back to life.

“Not gonna happen, love,” you reassure him as your kisses move to his ear, and he whimpers. “You’re all I want…” He shivers as you run your tongue along the shell of his ear. “…in men’s clothes, or women’s, or…” Your right hand slides under his soiled blouse, caressing the dips and valleys of his abs before latching onto a nipple and pinching, making him gasp. “…nothing at all.” Sealing lips on the skin behind and below his ear, sucking wetly but not so much as to leave a mark. The stylist-noonas will be pissed enough at you for ruining his costume. Leaving a bruise for them to cover up will not help.

He giggles and turns his head so he’s facing you, placing a chaste, shy kiss on your lips and then on the tip of your nose. “I love you too,” he says, batting his false eyelashes prettily at you.

For all this toughness and bad-assery on stage, Ravi really was just the soft-hearted, hopelessly romantic Kim Wonshik off of it.

So hot. Literally.

Sweat was running down your bodies, your faces in droplets, making your hair cling to your skin and his make up run. You lay him down on the seat and, after fumbling for your keys on the car floor, discarded with your pants, you turned the vehicle’s engine on, cranking the air-conditioning up to its highest setting. The sudden change in temperature makes his arms and legs prickle with goosebumps, half-hard cock twitch.

You smile devilishly at him, deep voice rumbling predatorily in your chest. “Another? So hot today…” He doesn’t answer. Instead he returns your smile with an impish grin and pulls you down, when suddenly there’ a knock at the window by your heads.

You look at each other with alarm. Had you been found? _Fuck._

You gesture at him to keep quiet as you push the button on the door, rolling the window down ever so slightly, just enough to let you see who’s outside and only so much that they could see your eyes.

“Ew! You guys!” N jumped a step back away from the window, his still made-up face scrunched up in disgust. One hand fans at his face as if to ward off a terrible smell, which it probably was. He could probably smell the sex wafting from inside the car. “Good thing we’re still the only ones here. I could tell you guys were fucking as soon as we got off the elevator. Your car was shaking so much, and I could hear you ten cars away, Shik-ah.”

You roared in laughter, making N scoff, as Wonshik raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry!” he squeaks.

N rolls his eyes before allowing himself to chuckle. “Be more careful, you guys. And don’t let Ravi-ah be late for practice tomorrow. Six am at the studio, okay?”

You stared at N incredulously, unable to believe he had just given you and Wonshik the permission to have the night to yourselves, and he again rolled his eyes. He raised a hand, one manicured finger up, and winked. “Just this once,” he said. “But never again if you don’t sanitize that backseat before our next road trip.”

You and Wonshik actually burst into whoops before N shushes you and you both cover your mouths with your hands, giggles escaping anyway. “You idiots,” N mutters affectionately, shaking his head, as he turns and walks away, hips swaying more than was his habit.

Shit-eating grin on your face, you push the button again to roll the window up, again closing your little bubble of privacy, and you look down at Ravi. Your hands on either side of his head bracing you up and keeping him looking up at you, mirroring your grin. “Where were we?” you say, making his grin widen if it was even possible at that point.

He licks his lips, hands going up to your neck, feathery soft touches as his fingers glide down to your waist. One hand pulls you closer, the other grips your manhood, pumping it back to hardness. “I’m hot…?” he purrs, bucking his hips up to make your erections touch and you shiver.

“Oh yes…you’re so hot…”

**Author's Note:**

> -
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥  
> If you enjoyed, liked, or loved this story, please let me know by leaving a comment, kudos, or a little gift to me through [here](http://paypal.me/ChaJungPiggybank).
> 
> I'm not requiring you to do any of that, it's completely up to you. I would just be very thankful for any and all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Have a nice day! ♥


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